The Gaunt Ring
by Donna Vito Frutti
Summary: The ring was ugly and somewhat clumsily made out of gold, probably a testament to the rudimentary skills and tools that were used to craft it. The stone itself was dull, black and uninteresting. It was now cracked and damaged, but brilliant. A bit like himself, he supposed.


**The Gaunt Ring**

by Donna Vito Fruttie

**Quidditch League Fanfiction Challenge**

**Season 2**

**Round 7**

**Team - Wimbourne Wasps**

**Position - Beater1**

**Prompts - consolidate,**

**"We accept the love we think we deserve"**

**A/N - Do leave a REVIEW**

**A/N - Enjoy**

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**The Gaunt Ring**

He picked up the ring. The metal was cool to his touch, although, it still spewed thin tendrils of smoke - lingering evidence of the destruction wrought upon it.  
The ring was ugly and somewhat clumsily made out of gold, probably a testament to the rudimentary skills and tools that were used to craft it. The stone itself was dull, black and uninteresting. It was now cracked and damaged, but brilliant. A bit like himself, he supposed. However, he couldn't help, but marvel at the magic employed in its making.  
The stone required a higher order of magic, to be able to summon shadows of a soul, long dead. It is a kind of magic no longer used and no longer thought of. The magic of a long forgotten era. Back in the time when every spell was made from potions brewed from a cauldron. Long before, when staffs were used as conduits of magic and wands were only an idea. And even before Hogwarts itself were an idea.  
The Peverell Brothers were the most skilled wizards of their age. Using their deep knowledge of magic and their talents, they had forged three devices, known as the Deathly Hallows. These hallows were a testament to their magical prowess. They were a wand, a cloak and a stone. Their consolidated power, it was said, was capable of defeating even death.  
The wand was known as the Elder Wand or Death Stick and made you practically invincible. It's loyalty was yours but only as long as you were not defeated by another. Then, the wand would belong to them.  
Dumbledore fingered his wand, thoughtfully.  
As of now, it belonged to him.  
The second, on the other hand, was a powerful Invisibility Cloak, that could resist a number of spells cast on it or its wearer. And it had survived for more than nine centuries, its power still strong. The boy, Harry has possessed it, for the past six years. He didn't yet know what it actually was.  
Time will come, when he will need to know.  
And when the time comes, he will need to know about more than just the hallows. Dumbledore pushed the thought away.  
It was the third Hallow, this ring, that Dumbledore was most interested in. The markings on the ring were familiar to him and he had known what it was, as soon as he cast his eyes on it.  
Known as the Resurrection Stone, it could bring the dead back, though, only their shadows, and not permanently, either. According to legend, the second Peverell brother used the ring to summon his dead lover. When the difference between the living and the dead, became too unbearable, he killed himself to rejoin her, in death. And in death, they were reunited.  
For Dumbledore, this meant a second chance. A chance at redemption and an opportunity to see his dead family again. And, perhaps, to apologise for his many mistakes.  
_We accept the love we think we deserve._ That was something he had read a long time ago. Yet, it was not he, who had thought it, now.  
It was the ring.  
He inspected the ring closely. He could see his own distorted reflection on the fractured surface of the stone. _Put it on, _the ring seemed to whisper.  
Or perhaps, it was the piece of Voldemort's soul. In his ignorance, he had turned the Hallow into a horcrux. And, though, the horcrux has been destroyed, Dark Arts often leave a trace of themselves, long after they have been vanquished.  
Even now, the echo of his soul could be lingering in the ring.  
It would be dangerous to attempt it, now.  
There seemed to be a sort of pulsing emanating from the ring. It seemed to speak to him, and read his thoughts.  
_Put it on. _  
He wouldn't. It was unwise. It would not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. He had said that himself.  
_You can bring them back. You can see them again. Your sister. You can see her again. Tell her you're sorry.  
_I am sorry. It's been more than a century, and the past still haunts me. It was my fault.  
_Tell her, then. Put the ring on. Bring her back.  
_It would not do to bring back what was past.  
_You must. Don't you long to be free? Haven't you suffered long enough?  
_Suffering. It's a part of me, now. It is my burden to bear.  
_End it, then.  
_Dumbledore had fought many battles. But the hardest of them all was the fight within himself. It seemed, even now, the fight was not over. And now, he had to fight his own temptation.  
The ring mocked him. _You are afraid, Dumbledore. You are a coward. The wizard who defeated Grindelwald. You fear what they will have to say. Your parents and your sister. Do you fear what they will say when you tell them you messed up?  
_Perhaps, I am a coward. Perhaps, I am afraid. Perhaps, I am too weak.  
Too long, had he sought the Stone. Too long, after winning over the Elder Wand's loyalty. The desire to see them again, to use the Stone, was burnt deep into his soul. And now, it was right there, before him. Like a boon granted after long penance.  
The temptation was irresistible. All he had to do was put it on, and then he could see them again, his family. We accept the love we think we deserve.  
_Put it on_, _then. _The ring said. _Get it over with.  
_What more have I to lose?  
Dumbledore put it on.

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**A/N**** - Dumbledore was tempted to put on The Gaunt Ring, in his desire to see his dead family again. And the curse present in it, spread like a disease to his hand, before he was able to stop it. Upon reaching the Hogwarts castle, however, he summoned Snape, who could slow the curse down and contain it to the hand.**

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